


A Snow Job

by Lonewritersclub



Series: Warmer This Way [11]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Birthday Party, Deadjokes, Gotham, Henchmen, Joker puts on his makeup again, M/M, Meeting Harley, Payback time, Rogues Gallery, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonewritersclub/pseuds/Lonewritersclub
Summary: Floyd follows him unconsciously, like a damn puppy, to yet another doorway to see it all. He’s so in awe to witness the transformation as much as he’s in awe by it. Joker lightly smiles to him through the mirror.
Relationships: Deadshot/Joker, Joker (DCU)/Floyd Lawton
Series: Warmer This Way [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/984471
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	A Snow Job

**A Snow Job**

Darkness swallows up Floyd’s vision at once as Joker opens the door to his headquarters and they take a step inside. The apartment is empty, there are no lights on and the curtains are drawn.

The whole apartment building, in fact, is vacant of people save for the hired goons that stand in the hallways. Joker and Floyd casually passed them by as they made their way through to the right door. They were heavily armed with weapons but looked nothing of the sort of military forces, rather of the kind of colourful punks and pure oddities of society. Floyd supposes that’s only characteristic for the company Joker keeps. He reckons he makes an exception in that case – or so he likes to think of himself.

They don’t pay the goons any mind. Joker and Floyd are here just looking to get some information on what’s been going on in the ‘kingdom of the mad’ during the prince’s absence. For instance, Joker is curious to hear what the hell happened to his right hand guy, Jonny Frost. He should have broken him out of Belle Reve ages ago yet he had heard no word from him the entire time.

Joker is ready to proceed on his road of _retaliation_ if need be and his shiny silver Blackcat is safely tucked away at his back but very much set to be used. However, there seems to be nobody around even inside Joker’s apartment.

The clown flips on the light switch showcasing a frown on his face. The quiet makes an eerie sound around the two of them.

Floyd doesn’t even need to be asked – he takes initiative and goes to check each room of the penthouse apartment with a poised gun ready at his fingertips, inspecting whether the place truly is unoccupied or if they have unwelcome company. They wouldn’t appreciate any surprise visits right now being the ultimate surprise visit themselves.

When Floyd comes back from his security rounds, Joker is now sitting in the grand lounge but leaning back in his seat to peak behind one of the heavy curtains to see whether anyone suspicious is around in the street: a Batman or a certain Harley Quinn, for example.

Floyd calmly takes a seat beside him on the couch and patiently waits for Joker’s attention. The clown eventually gives it to him after his done with his intense peering. Apparently, nobody’s _really_ around.

“I think we might need to call one of the goons in for a little interview”, he says to Floyd.

Floyd follows it up with an agreeing nod and standing right back up again to fetch one of the colourful people in the hall. The decides on the one closest to the front-door, a guy with a tall rainbow mohawk on top of his head, guessing he’d know the most, and signals for him to come inside with the motion of his finger.

The guy seems a bit nervous but also honoured to be invited inside the apartment and meet boss himself. Floyd thinks that he has all the right to be nervous but might also need to count his blessings to see if they’ll save him now.

Joker’s right where Floyd left him and Floyd guides the goon to stand in front of him from a respectable distance. Floyd takes back a couple of steps from the guy towards the curtained windows so that he’ll get in a nice clean shot to him if Joker so decides, and not have blood splatter on himself. He intends to keep himself nice and tidy for later tonight.

Joker stares at the goon with a certain amount of disinterest evident in his gleaming green eyes but it’s all down to him greatly pushing himself to focus. Floyd can tell he’s getting tired of all of this but knows it needs to be done. He, too, just wants to take the clown to bed already and forget about the world around them. However, that’ll only be possible as long as they know they won’t be jumped on by anybody.

Joker speaks to the goon with a voice close to being snappy.

“Where’s Jonny?”

The goon visibly shivers with nervous fear. His hands twitch around his bright yellow machine gun strapped over his chest.

“Uh, Jonny? Oh yeah, uh, Mr Frost is in Gotham General”, the guy then answers after a moment of being startled to hear Joker’s voice. He looks a bit more relieved afterwards to have been able to give some kind of an answer to Joker’s question.

Joker breathes out heavily, like he’s trying to blow out the anger he can’t yet just shoot out with the Blackcat. He’s trying to be patient for revenge’s sake. Floyd can’t help but feel a slightly more at tense because of that. By this point, he’s beginning to respond to his lover’s feelings naturally.

“What happened?” Joker further interrogations the goon between gritted teeth.

“Well, I wasn’t really there when it happened but about two months ago I heard Ms Quinn and Mr Frost arguing. I mean everybody heard it in the hall: there were loud crashes and bangs, lots of shouting and I think even a couple gunshots inside the apartment.”

“ _And_?” Joker presses on, his tension building in his shoulders, as he leans forward. Floyd tightens his hold on his own gun. He realizes he’s never truly seen Joker act in this way, at least right in front of his eyes. He’s more used to having the pale man writhing and trembling underneath him with pleasure. This is a whole other side of him he hasn’t yet witnessed beyond what he did with Griggs earlier that day. That, however, had been lethally jovial and playful, something Floyd knew to expect. What he’s seeing right now is pure animosity from the clown – rage continuously bubbling heatedly to the surface before being pushed down for now in a necessary attempt to seek out information so that a proper punishment could be laid out later for the persons in fault.

Floyd wants to set the rage free from him and see it wash over the city in a wave of chaotic upsurge. It would be beautiful of him. He can’t wait to witness it.

The goon quickly continues explaining.

“Well, after the argument Ms Quinn left the building. She had few bruises here and there but walked just fine. She left the door wide open and we could see Mr Frost laying on the floor. He was in really bad shape so we called the doctor but the doc said Mr Frost needed a real hospital this time. He was taken to Gotham General then. A few hours later we heard that he had slipped into a coma that he still hasn’t woken up from.”

A deep angry frown sets between Joker’s brows. His gaze leaves the henchman and shifts to the coffee table in front of him. He takes out the gleaming Blackcat from his waistband and sets it on the glass table with every intent backing his movements. He inhales, long and sharp, staring at the gun.

The goon starts to tremble on his feet and starts babbling in nervousness.

“Uh, so we just had the place cleaned up afterwards, and guarded it as usual until you’d come back. We checked up on Mr Frost from time to time but nothing new has been up, so uh...”

Joker stays awfully quiet for an avoidably long moment and Floyd notices how the goon is ready to start rambling again which will definitely not make things any better for him. Floyd isn’t sure what Joker’s about either but it seems he’s trying to gather his anger in control so that it wouldn’t lash out quite yet. The surface is nearly breaking underneath the heat.

Eventually he asks a question more, gaze fixed on the gun, his voice so very low that even Floyd can barely hear it.

“And _Harley_?”

The goon takes an audible gulp but answers to his best abilities hoping his fate isn’t sealed quite yet. His tone is weak, quivering.

“S-she said she was going to a friend’s place, nothing else… She’s hasn’t been back to the apartment since. But Ms Quinn has been running the club while you and Mr Frost have been away. I think she could be there now, too.”

Joker doesn’t say anything. He remains completely motionless, too. A minute later, he’s taken the Blackcat of the table before even Floyd can notice, the motion of his hand just a blur in his vision, and shoots the goon in his right leg.

The goon falls on his knees in a loud “ _oof_ ” and his hands frantically press on the bleeding wound in his thigh. Joker stands up from the couch in fluid motion despite the sprain in his right knee. He walks a feet away from the goon, staring at him.

The goon looks up to the clown in pure fear and desperation, completely at his mercy. Floyd finds himself holding his breath for whatever reason.

Joker, though, doesn’t in fact point the gun to the goon’s head as expected. He simply stands there, looming over him. Then he starts speaking sternly, ruling.

“When someone knocks Jonny down, be it with a crowbar or a bullet, it doesn’t matter _who_ did it, you kill them and dig grave deep”, he tells the goon slowly. “ _Got_ it?”

Floyd is surprised to hear it. The fact that Jonny Frost means more to Joker than Harley ever did, seems incredible but he’s obviously not going to argue with the man himself about it. He isn’t sure how to feel about it but decides it’s not important to him right now.

What matters is that Joker lets the goon go then.

“Thank you for your service”, he just says to him with a smile and pat on his shoulder, and the goon is surprisingly let out with just the injury to his leg. Floyd goes to usher him out back to the hallway where he’ll either be helped to a doctor or not. It’s not Floyd’s problem, that’s for sure.

When he gets back to Joker, Floyd keeps a fairly safe distance between them in case he doesn’t want to be touched right now. Joker still looks so frenzied with fury.

“What’s next?” Floyd asks him instead, ready to take the next step already. Joker doesn’t look at him when he answers.

“We’re going to the club.”

He takes a step towards the bedroom, when he suddenly hisses as he puts weight on his leg. It’s his injured knee and Floyd cannot remember to be cautious when he acts on his instinct and goes to help Joker. Thankfully Joker doesn’t resent him for it but instead leans into his support for when Floyd has wrapped his arm around his waist. Together they walk to the bedroom from where Joker takes off on his own to head to the huge walk-in wardrobe next to the large adjacent bathroom. Floyd stays by the door where Joker left him and watches the lights switch on.

Floyd’s eyes glaze over with slight wonderment at the overwhelming size of Joker’s collection of fine pieces of apparel but his vision sharpens again when he notices Joker dropping his temporary clothing Floyd gave to him to the floor. One by one, Joker sheds it all off and Floyd happily gazes upon his stripped form that has become so familiar to him yet has remained ever so enticingly fascinating.

Then he begins dressing himself up again, yet this time it feels different from the morning. Floyd finally gets to see the clown in his proper uniform, his mischievously, seemingly undeadly armour of utter elegance. It feels so sacred, Floyd cannot comprehend why he feels honoured to be able to see it all come together and that Joker allows him to do so.

Joker begins to dress himself in a very light blue v-neck blouse with two silk strips dangling from the collar like thin scarves ready to be blown around in the wind, and in a pair of sleek high-waisted black pants of perfect fit to him. Lastly, he slips on shiny patent leather shoes before continuing to the large pristinely white bathroom, passing Floyd on his way, where he takes a moment to care for his appearance.

Floyd follows him unconsciously like a damn puppy to yet another doorway to see it all. He’s so in awe to witness the transformation as much as he’s in awe by it. Joker lightly smiles to him through the mirror. 

First he washes his face before applying all sorts of serums and creams upon the porcelain surface of it. That’s before he gets to the good, the most interesting part in Floyd’s opinion – applying of the makeup.

The makeup arsenal consists of white translucent powder, lipstick, kohl and mascara. And only now seeing it happen before his eyes does Floyd understand the true meaning behind all of it.

Essentially, Joker is keeping inside the lines, this being probably the sole time for him doing so. With the use of makeup Joker is only defining and accentuating his unique features all the more, not hiding or perfecting. He’s very deliberately embracing his one of a kind nature – and by so he’s not permitting anyone to be able put him down for it, not permitting himself to become self-conscious about it.

He’s not covering up the bruises or the cuts. He’s letting the war show across his features. 

It is dazzling.

With a drop of hair gel and a bit of combing, Joker sets his emerald curls in place before giving himself a spritz of fragrance out of a glimmering golden bottle behind his ears and across his wrists. In Floyd’s mind he’d be ready to waltz right out of the door and onto a red carpet despite Floyd knowing that this is actually a more dressed down look for the clown compared to his usual attire.

The clown steps into Floyd’s arms instead, allowing Floyd to enjoy a whiff of his charming scent from his neck where Floyd immediately buries his face into, pressing his lips onto the smooth white skin.

“When we go to the club, I’m going to need you to cover my back. Can you do that for me, baby?” Joker asks quietly.

“Always”, Floyd tells him. It’s nothing if not both his personal duty and desire at this point. Floyd cradles the clown’s face in his hands and looks at the glimmering red lips part from his indulgent gaze. Floyd kisses him deeply, not coming up for breath for the life in him. Joker is runny honey in his arms, so relaxed, sweet and pliant to touch. The anger and resentment has been slipped off of his mind and now he’s focused, open and so beautiful to watch.

They leave with that. Joker has his Blackcat tucked behind his back once again and Floyd has stocked up his on the go bullet inventory with Joker’s home selection. The gold bullets have a little smiley face carved onto their side. Some of them happy, some of them sad. Floyd only takes that into account as it concerns their weight and how they will react once fired. For the flare of them, he manages an unnoticeable smirk.

There’s only one car in the otherwise empty parking garage below the apartment building. It’s a sleek black sports car but when Floyd gets closer to it, he notices it’s actually of a very poisonous dark green colour.

Joker prefers to be driven around instead of driving himself so Floyd takes the seat behind the wheel. Floyd likes to drive and it’s not every day he gets to drive a car such as this so he enjoys it while he can. In Floyd’s type of business, it’s best to choose a car that blends in instead of standing out. Not that this car would be the most eye-catching piece of machinery Floyd has seen the clown drive in – thankfully for this occasion.

The ride to the club takes about fifteen minutes seeing the traffic is sparse. The club front is empty as well – it appears as though it is closed for business even though the clock is nearing eleven pm. If Harley’s running the club, well she’s not doing it right. This is almost peak hours and the club’s closed?

Well, for them it’s for the better. Floyd parks the car behind the club through an alley Joker points to. By the back door of the club, there’s a couple of meaty goons guarding the night away. They stare as Floyd rises from the car and they raise their guns at him as expected. Floyd stares at them right back while Joker stands up from his seat, graceful and careful with his injured knee. When the goons notice their boss, they stand down immediately, jaws silently dropping open.

Joker makes his way over to the club, Floyd following right by his side with a sharp eye on everything that moves and _doesn’t_ move. The meathead on the right side of the door opens it up for Joker as gentlemanly as he can and the clown walks through not even glancing at the gorillas for a second longer. While it may seem like the thugs respect him, it could be just them playing Harley’s orders. This could still always be a trap. Someone may have very well sung about their arrival to old stomping grounds.

The inside of the club is lit low. The music is turned up low and slow and the place is empty and clear. Something is wrong. Harley must know about them, otherwise the club would be open, right?

Joker seems unfazed though. He wanders deeper inside the club until they come to a stairwell behind a steel door. The staircase is darkly lit by purple wall lights and the air still slightly thick in it from smoke machines. Joker starts going down, step by step as not to hurt his knee too bad. Floyd wants to just pick him up and carry him down but he understands that whatever the clown wants tonight, he’ll ask for it himself. Floyd shouldn’t assume anything right now. The clown has a reputation to hold here in public. For now, Floyd is a bodyguard.

There’s another door at the end of the spiralling staircase. Joker just stands in front of it for moment before looking at Floyd. Floyd is calm. He steps in and opens the door going in first, gun in hand raised and ready.

The room behind the door is not a big one but it is currently holding over thirty people. The worst of the worst.

There’s the Cobblepot, Dent, Nygma, Tetch, Jones, Zsasz, Kyle, Isley and many many more. The greatest criminals the city of Gotham has seen, all cramped under one roof inside Joker’s club. And behind them all, stood Harley Quinn. Dressed head to toe in red and black, hair in wild short ponytails and her grin as wide as ever.

If Floyd was to gun them all down right now, he fears he may be short in ammo if nothing worse. This was not good. Unless…

“Puddin! _Ooh!_ ” Harley squeals and comes skipping up to Joker before engulfing the stunned clown into an excited hug. “Oh, how I missed ya, Puds!” she cries but he nearly falls backwards from the push and he barely manages to stay upright. He can’t hold in the hiss of pain when he has to put pressure on his knee from the strain. Harley lets go off him right at that sound in horror.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, Mr J. You’re hurt, aren’t ya?” she notes with a hand across her mouth. Joker doesn’t say a thing. The whole room is watching them. Then Harley notices him.

“Floyd? I was hoping you’d come as well. I feared your invitation got lost in the mail but here you are, thank you Jesus! Things are finally looking up, aren’t they!”

Joker stares at her, then at the quiet crowd behind her.

“What is going on?” he asks in a low voice. It may not sound threatening at first, maybe even shy more than anything, but it is nothing if not dangerous.

Harley keeps her smile in place despite it. She turns to the side and waves her arm behind her to the round table some of the invited people are sat around. In the middle of the table is a three layered light pink frosted cake with at least ten lit candles on top of it.

“Well, it’s you’re birthday party of course! Come on, make a wish before the candles melt onto the cake!” she exclaims and then tugs Joker closer to the “birthday cake” by his hand. Floyd follows him in tow and they stop in front of the table. Harvey is glaring at Floyd with his marred eye with a suspicious look.

“It’s not my birthday”, Joker says as he stares at the cake and then at the guests sat around the table.

“It don’t need to be your birth day for us to have a birthday party, now does it? I just wanted to properly celebrate your return to Gotham and what’s a better way to do that than to throw a birthday party with all of your good pals! Now come on, Puds, blow the candles!” Harley says.

Joker doesn’t blow the candles. Instead he backhands her to the side with a grimace painted on his face.

“Stop lying to me!” he yells at her and then swiftly pulls the Blackcat from the back of his pants and points the barrel at her surprised face. The gun glitters prettily in the light of the flickering candles. Floyd follows that moment in suit by pulling out his handguns to be ready for shit to go down.

Joker is furious. He steps closer to Harley.

“I know you put Jonny to the hospital because you wanted to leave me rot in Belle Reve. This isn’t a celebration for my return, this is a snow job because you failed!” Joker snarls at her his left hand squeezing itself into a tight fist by his side.

Harley holds up her hands in a gesture of surrender and even to Floyd is looks wrong on her. But maybe that’s because she doesn’t look as worried as she should. However, this is Joker she’s facing and what’s she’s to do other than to give up even if she didn’t want to. Unless there’s something else going on here…

The rest of the room is still completely still and quiet despite the crowd of felons residing inside it. When Floyd glances back to the many candles lit on top of the cake, he notices something strange about them – they haven’t melted at all.

“Joker…” Floyd mutters in warning and narrows his eyes as he turns to look back over to Harley and him. That’s when he notices that Harley has somehow got a red and black gun in her hand and then it’s quickly raised and focused at Joker’s head. Before Floyd has had the time to even processed that fact fully, she has already suddenly pulled the trigger.

The bullet eats through Joker’s forehead and promptly he falls down on the floor after that like a beautiful flower snapped off from its stalk. Floyd can’t breathe all of the sudden. There’s only one thought in his head but just as he’s about to gun Harley down, the bitch has already pulled the trigger twice more and they hit their target perfectly: right through the soft space between Floyd’s chest plates.

The warm blood coats Floyd’s fingers before he can even feel the pain.

“Fuck you. Fuck y'all!” she sneers.

Floyd’s knees hit the ground next to Joker and his lungs fill up with something he can’t breathe through. His vision is going but not before he sees Harley’s black army boot swinging to crush into the side of his head. That’s when it all goes black for a very, very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Long time without another update for this fic arch, I know, sorry! I was going to end it this one originally but things took a slight turn there so I think I'll add one more update if that's okay with you. I didn't want to continue writing this one for too long so I cut it up here. Or would you rather have it end here with them dying? Your choice!


End file.
